Never having had an opportunity while a slave, I resolved to seize this, my first, since my escape.

I went, and as I approached the entrance to gain admission, I was met and told by the door-keeper, in a harsh and contemptuous tone, "_We don't allow niggers in here_." I also remember attending a revival meeting in the Rev.Henry Jackson's meeting-house, at New Bedford, and going up the broad aisle to find a seat, I was met by a good deacon, who told me, in a pious tone, "_We don't allow niggers in here_!" Soon after my arrival in New Bedford, from the south, I had a strong desire to attend the Lyceum, but was told, "_They don't allow niggers in here_!" While passing from New York to Boston, on the steamer Massachusetts, on the night of the 9th of December, 1843, when chilled almost through with the cold, I went into the cabin to get a little warm.

I was soon touched upon the shoulder, and told, "_We don't allow niggers in here_!" On arriving in Boston, from an anti-slavery tour, hungry and tired, I went into an eating-house, near my friend, Mr.
Campbell's to get some refreshments.

I was met by a lad in a white apron, "_We don't allow niggers in here_!"{289} A week or two before leaving the United States, I had a meeting appointed at Weymouth, the home of that glorious band of true abolitionists, the Weston family, and others.

On attempting to take a seat in the omnibus to that place, I was told by the driver (and I never shall forget his fiendish hate).